Enough
by Jillian1
Summary: Immediately after the events of "Orison," Scully and Mulder have a lot to think about. Post-episode, please R/R!


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TITLE: Enough

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AUTHOR: Jillian

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KEYWORDS: ScullyAgnst, Post-episode, MSR

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RATING: PG-13

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SPOILERS: Irresistible, Orison.

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TIMEFRAME: Immediately after the last sentence of "Orison"

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FEEDBACK: Yes, please! If not here at the site, to JILLIBEAN@aol.com

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ARCHIVE: If you want it, please let me know first so I gain bragging rights. ;)

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DISCLAIMER: Even though I doubt Chris Carter has nothing better to do than look for fourteen year old girls to sue, I don't own any of these characters. Not one. Pathetic, eh? The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and Donnie Pfaster belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, FOX, and the actors or actresses who portray them. I'm just borrowing them to appease boredom, so Chris--if lack of new X-Files is leaving you with nothing better to do, go ahead, sue me. I have no money anyways.

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AUTHORS NOTES: I love "Irresistible" and "Orison." Pfaster scares the crap out of me, and I always wanted to write a post episode for "Orison." I finally got around to it. I hope you like it! It switches POV from Mulder to Scully.

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SUMMARY: Immediately after the events of "Orison," Scully and Mulder have a lot to think about. Post-episode, please R/R!

*Mulder*

"I mean, what if it wasn't." She answers.

I pause for a moment, looking at her. I look at a Dana Scully I'm not used to seeing, a hurt Dana Scully. Not to say she's never hurt--it seems as if she's *always* hurt--but she never shows it. 

"You think it was the devil?" I ask, contemplating her last sentence.

"What if it was? Mulder, I killed that man out of hatred. I wanted to see him bleed."

"He would have killed again." I say. "You know that. This man was obsessed with death and beyond that obsessed with *you*. Your death."

"Either way, it doesn't justify what I felt... I wanted to kill that man. I know, I knew, your report would defend me. I trusted, and always will, that you would defend me--and if need be lie for me, which is why that isn't what I'm worried about. I'm worried about myself, what I've done. I killed an unarmed man." Scully sighed.

"He was a horrible human being-if you would call him a human being, and I wouldn't."

"He was pure evil." She says, looking down at her blood stained pajamas.

"Scully, are you okay?" I ask. She seems detached, almost shaky.

"I'm fine, Mulder..." The 'I'm fine' saga begins. 

"Well, do you want to pack some things?"

"Actually, um, can we just go? I need to get out of here." She asked softly. 

"Of course we can. I have plenty of stuff for you to sleep in." I say, noticing the blood on her pajamas. "I'll clean this place up in the morning." I offer.

"Mulder, you don't have to do this." She says, her immediate shock wearing off. "I'm fine, really." Back to old Scully.

"C'mon Scully." Is all I say. She doesn't hesitate to follow me out.

The car ride is quiet and uneventful. This case really affected her the first time around. We hadn't been together as partners long, almost two years I think, nothing compared to now. Even then, I knew her well enough to know she was genuinely horrified by Pfaster. I knew she wasn't okay, no matter how many times she told me she was. In the end, she broke down in my arms. This time, I know she isn't fine. Nobody could be fine after what that son of a bitch Pfaster did to them. Poor Scully, this wasn't her first encounter with him. I feel horrible, I should've gotten there earlier... I should have checked the messages. I just tell myself to thank God that she's alive. It was almost over. There were no more wounds to be administered, all we have to do was wait for the scars to heal.

She sits down on the couch and I offer he something to eat or drink. She nods her head "no", and I sit down on the couch, not quite next to her. I look at her, and I know this isn't something she can just forget. She asks me quietly to use my shower, and of course I tell her she can. She gets up and walks into the bathroom. Soon I hear the water come on. I know she'll be a while, I don't blame her.

*Scully*

The sound of water running makes me want to vomit. *I'm going to draw you a bath* His voice rings in my ears. Still, I need to rid myself of any evidence of Pfaster. This is where my medical alter-ego comes in. I look my body over, no serious injuries. Bumps, bruises, and cuts, but nothing serious. I scrub my body, ridding myself of all the blood on me, both my own and Pfaster's. I killed a man today, and I didn't have to. I could've shot him in the shoulder. I didn't need to shoot him at all! We had him under control, at gunpoint, both Mulder and I. He could have rotted in jail, hell, they could have given him the death sentence and I could have slept peacefully. I'm a Federal Agent, they would have killed him. Instead I'm shaking, tears rolling down my cheeks, in Mulder's shower. Tears of horror, of remorse, of shame. I killed a man. The first place I'd be going was the confessional. 

I run my hands through my tangled hair, trying to work out some of the knots. I'm just beginning to realize how extremely hot the water is, but I only wish it could be hotter. Mulder's shower head has great water pressure, and the hot water pounds down on the cuts I suffered from the struggle. Mulder. Mulder has been so good to me, and yet I can't show appreciation. Why, I ask myself, do I insist on keeping up this front? This 'I'm fine' charade? Why can't I just say, 'Yeah Mulder, I could use some help. I don't want to be alone?' I didn't have to say it. He knew. And I hate myself for letting it become visible. I don't quite know why this case is getting to me so much. There were reasons, I remember visiting the Bureau psychiatrist briefly after my first encounter with this case. There were reasons to blame it on. None of them seemed bad enough to validate my level of horror, of vulnerability.

The blood is all gone. These wounds, the cuts from the broken glass, the other bruises and cuts from the struggle, they will all heal. But will the mental wounds heal? Will I ever be able to get a manicure without hearing, reliving, Donnie Pfaster asking "Who does your nails, girly-girl?" I shake my head as I viciously shampoo it. His voice still lingers in my mind. What he might have done to me if I hadn't killed him still lingers in my mind. What he did to me lingers in my mind. What he took from me. He took away my control. What he did to those women. The hatred for them, the pain he caused them. The way he thought of me all those years, how he went after redheads as soon as he got free. If he had killed the prostitute, the fake redhead, surely I could have been blamed because I was the reason he wanted redheads. It scares me to be thinking like this, but Pfaster's words, "You're all I think about," make me sick. I turned off the shower. The water was going cold.

Mulder had a bathrobe in the bathroom, which I put on. I knew he wouldn't mind. I stepped out of the room, and heard him call to me "There are clothes for you on my bed." I walked into his room and put them on. I stepped back into the living room and sat on the couch not quite beside him. It would be a while before I could sleep again. I couldn't let him see vulnerability. I couldn't lose control. No matter how much I wanted to thank him, I had to keep up the front.

*Mulder*

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

"Okay." She replies. "Mulder, really, I'm fine, thank you so much for worrying about me."

"Scully, what happened to you today was... Awful. I know that you need to talk about it. You can't push this away. You tried the first time. You eventually broke down, Scully. Everybody does." I tell her.

"I know." She says, still in almost a whisper. 

"Tell me, Scully. Talk to me." I say.

"Mulder, I... I just, feel so low. So vulnerable, so broken. Almost dirty. He took away my control, my dignity. He tied me up, he taunted me... He knew I knew his intention, and he knew it scared me." I wanted to cry for her. I couldn't let her see that Pfaster had gotten to me, too. "I kept trying to tell myself not to be so repulsed, so afraid, and I tried to act like he only made me angry and not horrified. I couldn't get him out of my head after the first time. I hated that I couldn't control my thoughts, my dreams. That I couldn't just forget about the whole incident like I had with so many others. That I couldn't get the horrible things he did out of my mind. When I looked at Pfaster that night, I saw... Evil. That man was evil. I couldn't stand to look at him, I kept turning away. I couldn't stand to see him in my home, couldn't stand for anyone else to have to see him anymore so I killed him. Out of vengeance. Because he scared me. Disgusted me. I'm not supposed to be afraid. I wanted to see that man bleed. And that's a horrible thing to want. But I was so.. Scared. I shouldn't have been but I was." She said, now beginning to cry.

"Shh," I tell her. I put my arm around her, and she jumps, backing away.

"These things aren't supposed to scare me. I'm supposed to have a medical detachment. I'm supposed to protect other people from it."

"Scully, I told you the first time. I've seen people break down on cases like these. It's not an easy thing to handle." I say, putting my hand on her leg. She pushes it off.

"What, Scully?" I ask, somewhat hurt. 

"I just, I don't like this." She says, seeming frustrated, almost angry. More like the Scully I know so well.

"Don't like what?" I ask, confused.

"Being like this. Like right now. Seeming vulnerable. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your help but... I'll be fine. I am fine. I don't want you to think you have to look over me, or protect me or comfort me. I can handle this. I'm fine."

"Scully, you getting upset over this does not make me think any less of you. I don't buy for a minute that you're fine, and that phrase is getting redundant."

"I don't need this, Mulder. I can get by on my own." She's so stubborn sometimes. 

"Tell me, Scully. Talk about it. Stop pretending… You don't have to pretend with me. Nothing could change the way I see you." I offer. She pauses.

"It's just that he took away my control, to escape him, to get that demon's image out of my mind. And with me seeming vulnerable, it's like losing my control all over again. I couldn't control myself enough to not be afraid, or disgusted, or..." She sighs. "By you helping me, like I cannot do it on my own... Mulder, other things are fleeting. Careers, even people, they come and go. Control of one's self shouldn't."

"Scully, you need to know that I am not fleeting. I'm not going anywhere." I tell her.

"Thank you." She whispers.

"You should get some sleep, Scully." I tell her. I know she doesn't want to but she needs to.

"I know I should, Mulder. I don't think I can. I keep seeing his face. I keep thinking how I shouldn't have killed him out of vengeance. I know I should feel remorse for taking his life but I don't. That can't be good." She sighs.

"That son of a bitch was evil, you said it yourself. You can't regret ridding the world of sicko's like Pfaster." I say. "Get some rest."

"I am tired..." She sighs.

"You can take my bed." I offer.

"I couldn't do that," She begins.

"I don't use it anyway." I grin. I honestly don't. I came home one day and it was there, a water bed. Man, I must have been wasted when I ordered that thing. She smiles.

"Thank you Mulder. You're too kind to me." She says, rising from the couch.

"I could never be too kind to you Scully. Nothing's too good for you." I mean it.

She just smiles and softly says "G'night, Mulder."

"Night, Scully. I'll be right out here if you need me."

*Scully*

I know I'm not going to able to sleep. I cannot believe I lost control, I cried in front of Mulder, again. It's not like I never have, but, I hate doing that. It's the second time that Pfaster is the reason, too. I try to push him from my brain. I close my eyes and I see it. The demon inside Pfaster. It haunts me. I open my eyes, and I see Mulder's quiet room. His waterbed is wonderfully comfortable, and I wonder where it came from. One day it just appeared here. I realize, happily, that I finally wasn't thinking about Donnie Pfaster. But of course, that qualifies as thinking of him, so here I am back at square one. I close my eyes tightly. I drift into sleep, after about an hour of tossing and turning.

Oh no, I hear it again. The song. *What you need is a lover, someone to take over. Oh girl... Don't look any further...*

*Who does your nails, girly girl?*

I'm in a bathtub. The water is cold, and he has my hair in his hands. I try to move but I can't, I try to yell but I can't. I'm paralyzed by fear.

*You're the one that got away. You're _all_ I think about.*

I look down at my nails. They're red instead of the cream color I had them manicured. Blood red.

No. No. I'm going to get away again, Pfaster, you son of a bitch! But it doesn't come out, my voice... It doesn't make a sound.

And he's got a knife. And scissors. And shampoo.

*Mm, I like red nails. I've missed you, Girly-girl. Ever since I almost had you, all I've wanted was a redhead. I tried to get one, another one, but she was fake. She wasn't _you_. You're hair is beautiful, but you never did tell me what shampoo to use, Girly-girl. I think this one will suit you fine. You're a natural redhead, right?*

Red. The color of passion, of pain, of blood, of evil. Now, of my nails for some reason. He picks up shampoo and pours water over my hair. 

*You've gotten away from me twice, but you won't get away again.*

I shot him. He should be dead. It's as if he reads my mind.

*Demons never die, Girly-girl.*

I think I'm going to vomit. The slow sound of his voice, the drawn out words, the way he hesitates so calmly when he speaks. The look of clam never leaves his face, even when he transforms before my eyes into the evil I see in him. It is all so utterly repulsive I look away. I cannot bear to look. He picks up the knife, and I look at him again, as much as it disgusts me. My eyes beg him to spare me. He lowers it to my pinky, the nail painted red. This is so disgusting, this psychopath is getting off on this. And nobody is here to help me. Nobody. He stops right before cutting my flesh, taunting me, knowing I can do nothing.

*I finally have you, Girly-girl. I knew I would.* He says. It goes down to my flesh. My voice works, finally, and I scream and scream and scream.

"NOOO! Please, no, please! Not my fingers! Please! They'll kill you for this! Don't touch my fingers! Nooo!"

"SCULLY!" I hear, it's Mulder! Thank God, Mulder.

I look and see him standing above me. I'm warm and dry, in his bed. Not in a bathtub. I'm in his bedroom. It was a dream. Oh, thank god. 

"Oh my God." I breathe.

"It's okay, Scully. It was a dream, that's all. Your safe." He tells me.

I start crying, involuntarily. I feel ashamed of myself for letting this bastard get to me. For letting Mulder see me so weak. For being afraid.

"He was back, Mulder." I whisper.

"He's dead, Scully. He's gone. He's never coming back. You're safe now."

I sigh, noticing it's daylight. The clock says 9:15 AM.

"Mulder, we have work." I say, rising from the bed.

"No, Scully, I called the AD. I told him we needed a personal day after yesterday." He says. I suddenly feel very, very angry.

"You did what?" I ask, angrily. "Mulder, what the hell is wrong with you? I'm fine, okay? I could easily have gone to work today and I DON'T need YOU looking out for me. I can look out for myself" I say, standing, fully intending to leave his apartment.

"Scully, I don't doubt that. But you aren't fine, you just woke up screaming 'Not my fingers!' You need to relax a little. You need the day off."

I feel humiliated, angry, and upset. Especially humiliated. I can't believe I yelled out like that. I'm not supposed to be afraid of these people!

"Don't tell me what I need. You don't know what I need. It was a nightmare, I don't control my dreams. You don't know what I need." I repeat.

"I've known you long enough to know that you can't admit when you're hurt." He says. Ouch.

"You don't know as much about me as you think." I say, more bitterly than I think I meant to. I get up and I try to walk out, but he stands in front of me.

"Why won't you let me help you, Scully? This case is messing around with your head. It's getting to you. You don't have to hide that from me. I thought by now you knew that. I don't think any less of you for being afraid of that bastard." He says, raising his voice a few decibels louder.

"I'm not afraid. I don't need your help, and it's not getting to me. It was just a dream. I'm fine." I spit out, and walk out of the room.

*Mulder*

She walked out of the room, and I walk after her. She doesn't turn around, but heads for the door. Jesus, I'm such an idiot, I've made her so upset.

"At least let me drive you home." I say, quietly.

"I don't need your help, I don't need your hospitality, and I don't need you to drive me home." She said, so bitterly that it broke my heart.

"I just want to help you. Don't walk out on me, Scully." I say

She doesn't seem to care. She walks right out the door after slipping on her shoes, still in my sweats. I follow her into the hall.

"Let me call you a cab." I offer.

"You just don't get, it do you? This is exactly what I didn't want to happen, what I knew would happen." She says, pressing the button on the elevator so hard I thought her finger would break.

She walks on and I don't follow her. God, I feel awful. I made her really upset--she's never walked out on me like that. And what is she trying to prove? She doesn't have to prove ANYTHING to me, I know that she's strong. Its just that after what she's been through, I know she needs somebody. I know I would if I had faced evil like she had. I'm sure her being a Catholic isn't helping, she's probably filling her head with the idea that she's going to hell for killing that son of a bitch. And now she's probably driving home, incredibly angry with me. And I'm standing alone in my hallway worrying like hell about her, when I shouldn't be. Worrying about her was what pissed her off so much. I walk back into my apartment, and contemplate calling her...

*Scully*

I walk into my house after paying for the cab, and see the huge mess. Oh god. Blood on the carpet, the mess made from knocking down the bookshelf, shattered glass, melted candles. I close my eyes, trying to gather up my sanity, but it feels like I can't. I start to cry... I'm sobbing, looking at the mess, and realizing that it isn't just the simple mess in my house that's setting me off. It's the mess *I've* made of everything. The way I treated Mulder when he had been so good to me. I was being irrational, he was just looking out for me. I overreacted, I shouldn't have yelled, I should have simply said I didn't need his help. I can't believe what I've done. Killed a man, an unarmed man, and messed things up with Mulder.

I was picking up the scattered books when it occurred to me. I remembered Pfaster's comment, remembered hearing it *yet again* in my dream, and got up and walked into the bathroom. *Who does your nails, girly-girl?* I quickly flung open the medicine cabinet and pulled out the nail polish remover. No more nail polish. I hate nail polish. At least it isn't red, but it's still polish. Oh, no, my hair. It's _red_. What Pfaster wanted so badly. I should bleach it. I have peroxide down here somewhere...

Oh. My. God.

I'm going insane. I'm pouring nail polish remover over my hand and contemplating pouring peroxide over my head! I am going insane because of this Pfaster bastard. This isn't like me. I'm not acting myself. I cannot, I will not, let him get to me. I can't. I won't. He already made me make some stupid decisions regarding Mulder... I have to call Mulder. All he wanted to do was help. And I can finally admit it... I could really use some help right now.

*Mulder*

Okay, so I'm going to call her. My hand is reaching for the phone to dial the only number I know perfectly by heart when the phone rings.

"Yeah?" I ask, hoping it's her.

"Mulder, it's me." I sigh, it is Scully, her most common greeting.

"Scully, listen, I'm sorry.." I offer.

"Don't be. I was completely out of line. You were just trying to help, and... I got carried away." She says. "I'm sorry, Mulder."

"Don't be." The answer I offer her is her own. "You've been through a lot. How are you feeling?"

"Not great. Do you think..." She pauses. "You could come over and help me clean up this place?" She asks.

"Of course, Scully. Of course."

"Thank you Mulder." She says, hanging up the phone. I walk so fast it could be called running and hop into my car. After slamming the keys into the ignition, I drive faster than most ambulances do. I'm fully expecting to get pulled over and be asked "Where's the fire?" I have to help Scully, she means too much to me to be alone at a time like this. She is more than my partner, I love her. I told her that, and she probably thought I was nuts, but I love her. I pull in front of her building and rip the keys out of the ignition. I get out of the car and trot up the stairs into her building and up to her apartment.

After checking the peep-hole, she says "Hi, Mulder." and opens the door.

"Thanks for coming by." She says.

"Don't even mention it, Scully."

She turns around and walks into the living room.

"It's a mess, Mulder, the glass, the bookshelf, the candles..." She pauses. "The blood."

"We could call a carpet shampoo place for that. You know, those guys who clean your rug with all the bubbles." I say, trying to lighten the mood. She smiles.

"How much you think that costs?" She asks.

"It doesn't matter. I'll pay it."

"Mulder... Are you forgetting what we had our argument about?" She asks, busying herself picking up books.

"Fine." I say. "I'll pay half. Final offer." I smile.

"You've got yourself a deal." She says.

We don't say anything more as we pick up the books and replace them to the bookshelf. I smell something strong, something almost acidic. I suddenly notice her fingernails... They aren't polished anymore, they used to be this crème color and now they have no polish on them. Nail polish remover. She had dumped nail polisher remover all over her hands. I bet she doesn't know I ever noticed the color of her nails. Or the shape she has them filed, it's square, not rounded. I bet she has no idea of the way I watch her everyday, in the office, in the field, when we meet after work... I bet she has no idea I love her. I love Dana Scully. I don't know what kind of love, but it's love. I guess the kind of love depends on how she feels about me. Undoubtedly I would be her lover in a second, but if she didn't want that, I would *still* have a feeling of love for her. I care about her more than *anyone*. She means everything to me. That's love.

*Scully*

I think he smelled the nail polish remover. Oh well. I couldn't bare to see him every time I close my eyes. *Who does your nails, girly girl?* No more manicures for me. He hesitates for a little while and goes back to picking things up. We clean everything, except for the blood, and then he calls the carpet shampoo-er's. He's so good to me. I care about him so much. I love him. The kind of love varies, it's every kind of love. Attraction to his mind, persona, body. Love in the 'lover' sense, although we are not lovers, not now. Maybe one day. I love him in the affection sense, I respect and admire him. I love him. I really do, but I don't need him here.. Hell, yes I do. I have to stop hiding the fact that I can use his help some time.

"Scully," He says, breaking the long silence.

"Yes, Mulder?" I ask.

"When I was in the hospital, after being out at sea looking for that ship..." He pauses. I nod. "I told you, I told you I loved you. I meant it, Scully. It wasn't a delirious fever dream or the ratings of a crazy person. Well, maybe I am crazy, but I love you." He says. My heart melts, and I feel tears in my eyes.

"I love you too, Mulder. I was so scared. I saw evil in him. I just walked out, it was like I couldn't control myself. I had the sudden urge to see him die. We had him at gunpoint, Mulder, we could have taken him away. We could have seen him die in jail or by the government but... I shot him instead. An unarmed man standing before me, contained and controlled and I shot him..."

"Don't cry." He hugs me. He holds on. "It's okay now."

"I hope it is, Mulder."

"Don't judge yourself. You didn't do *anything* wrong today. You put evil to rest. Promise me you won't keep blaming yourself for this." He said, almost asking.

"I promise." I say, through tears.

He holds me there on the blood stained floor until the shampoo guys knock at the door. Love. It's a funny thing, really. It doesn't mean we have to be married or having sex... We are neither having sex nor married, yet we are in love. It doesn't even make us lovers just yet, although I wouldn't mind and I don't think he would either. It just feels good to know we both care deeply enough for one another that we can truly say this feeling is love. We don't need to get married or have sex (just yet, anyway) to prove that we love each other. Just Mulder holding me in his arms is enough. I know it's enough for him too.


End file.
